


The Perfect Remedy

by Ena2705



Category: Psych
Genre: M/M, Migraine, Shassie, Shawn Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ena2705/pseuds/Ena2705
Summary: Shawn gets a migraine, Lassie takes care of him.





	The Perfect Remedy

It started off as a slight pressure above his ears, like putting an elastic band around his head. Deciding that it was hardly noticeable, and definitely not worth missing a potential pay check for, Shawn got out of bed and boiled a pot of water. He didn’t normally like hot drinks, but having recently been gifted a box of fruit tea bags from an estranged friend by the name of Pierre Despereux, he decided that today was a good day for a mango and pineapple tea.   
By the time he got to the station, the headache had intensified to one of a dull ache in the back of his skull. Once again, he ignored the sensation and sauntered over to Lassie’s desk. But before he could get a word in, the elder man muttered: “I don’t have time for you today, Spencer. Go bother somebody else.” Shawn quickly closed his mouth and headed over to go say good morning to Buzz. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew when to push the detective’s buttons and clearly today was not the day.   
Gus finished his rounds with his other job earlier than usual that day, so drove his little blue Echo down to the station to find Shawn. At the time, Shawn was looking through some records with Juliet about a a cold case recently coming back up. With the pain in his skull at hangover level, Shawn could hardly focus on the words in front of him, so popped a few pills from Gus’ sample case.   
Lunch time rolled around and Lassiter had finally finished the paperwork he had been working on all morning and was now out of his bad mood. In celebration, he wandered over to the break room and found Shawn curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion. Assuming that the man had simply fallen asleep, Lassiter rolled his eyes and flicked on the coffee machine. As the battered old machine worked itself into action, it made loud and obnoxious noises, warning the detective that it was time the department bought a new one. Out of the corner of his eye, Lassiter saw the pseudo psychic curl closer in on himself, and when the machine beeped to signal the coffee was ready, Shawn let out a pained moan.   
“Spencer, are you alright?” The detective asked, concern growing slightly. His only response was another moan. Abandoning the coffee, he crept over to the sofa and crouched before the younger man’s face. This time, he whispered the same question.   
“Headache.” Came a groan from behind the cushion.   
Lassiter winced in sympathy and shut the break room blinds. He carefully closed the door behind him and set off to flag down Guster. Finding him at O’Hara’s desk, Lassiter asked if Spencer often got headaches, to which he learned that the younger man had been suffering from migraines since he was a mere 5 years old.   
Realising that he forgot to get his coffee, he headed back into the break room just in time to witness Spencer dart from the sofa to the men’s bathroom; the sound of vomiting followed suite. Lassiter headed in the same direction as Spencer and found him leaning over a toilet bowl.  
Shawn flushed the handle and rested his head against the porcelain seat, the coolness of it soothing against the raging fire in his skull. He shouldn’t have come in that day, he realised. A hand fell into his own to help him up, but the spots in his vision prevented him from seeing who’s it was. The same hand helped him all the way through the station and into the passenger’s seat of a car. Though it hurt to think, Shawn immediately knew this wasn’t Gus’ car from the smell and feel alone but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be somewhere quiet to sleep off the pain.   
The hand helped him out of the car and into a warm house, guided him to the bedroom, and helped him get his shoes off, before shutting the curtains and closing the door behind them. Whoever the hand belonged to, Shawn was very grateful.   
-  
The next morning Shawn woke to find that he only had a little pain remaining, and a good samaritan had left a glass of water by his bed.   
No, not his bed.   
Where was he?  
Shawn cautiously crept out of the room and down the stairs, only to be pleasantly surprised by Lassie lounging on his sofa reading a book. The elder man looked up from his page when he noticed Shawn and asked: “feeling better?”.  
Shawn sat next to his helping hand and leaned in close, feeling warm breath against his lips. For a man who claimed to hate Shawn, he didn’t show it very well. Their lips touched in a butterfly kiss, and Lassiter knew exactly what Shawn meant.   
_Much, thank you._


End file.
